Thawing Ava

USA Today Recommended

Blurb:

Hockey player Brice Douglas has never gotten over the Christmas he spent with Ava Johnson back in college. Now, years later, he’s in trouble with his team, the Witch Fields Prowlers. Desperate to keep their rabble-rousing player’s head in the game, they hire a babysitter to keep his ass out of a sling and home in his bed at night: Ava. He’s determined to make up for lost time, while convincing her he’s not the man the team made him out to be, using every dirty, sexy trick he can.

Ava just got out a relationship with a cheating fiancé. She needs time to rebuild her life and babysitting her old college crush maybe the answer to her prayers–so long as sex isn’t involved. Yet, with his sexy nightly self-pleauring sessions and dirty talk her resistance quickly starts wearing thin. With every day that passes, she’s growing more comfortable with him and his desire for her.

Will she be putting Brice on ice, or will he end up thawing Ava?

Excerpt:

She shifted in her seat and looked down at the counter. “Okay, deal. So are you too tired for…?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to finish that sentence.

“Say it, Ava,” Brice ordered.

Heat flared in her face and prickled along her ears. She licked her lips. “Um, are you too tired for what you promised me?”

Brice shook his head, and her heart sank. “Ava, be explicit. Tell me what you want.”

“Do you want to tie me down on the bed and use sex toys on me?” He hadn’t talked about vibrators and dildos, but she decided to throw that in there and see if he’d be put off. Brice had mentioned that he wanted to watch her masturbate, to see how she liked it, but this was putting her pleasure completely at his control.

The room grew hotter, and the fireplace wasn’t even on. She toyed with her phone. His gaze weighed on her, caressing the column of her neck, swirling around her breasts, and slipping down her stomach to whisper against her thickened labia. She could feel his fingertips ghosting over her flesh.

“I told you before you never have to feel ashamed with me over your desires and needs. You have to be honest with me and me with you. Now using sex toys on you—do you want me to use the ones I have, or do you want to use yours?”

He had sex toys? “Why would you have sex toys?”

He chuckled and replied, “I always wanted to be prepared in case I found a lover with my interests. If we came back here, which was rare, if ever, I’d be ready. Good enough explanation?” He moved around the counter.

She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Yes, and thank you for not getting defensive with my asking.”

“Another Perry thing?” His eyes narrowed, and anger flared briefly before it disappeared to be replaced by an emotion she couldn’t identify.

She nodded. “Yes, but I want to move on from there, do things I was denied, and finally acknowledge and give in to my desires.”

He cupped her cheek and gave it a stroke before he stepped back. “Good. Just let me take a shower, okay? Marsh talked me into a workout while analyzing my games. I feel like I’ve pushed myself so hard that I’ll need some massage therapy tomorrow. Sex will help, though.” He gave her a kiss on her cheek, finished his slice, then went into the bathroom.

Bad Blood (Latter Day Olympians Bk 1)

Blurb:

Tori Karacis is a little more than your average private eye. Among other things, her family line may or may not trace back to a drunken liaison between the god Pan and one of the immortal gorgons. It may be just coincidence that her glance can literally stop men in their tracks, or that her family sports enough irregularities to keep the Rialto Bros. Circus in business. Then again, maybe not.

Tori’s debilitating fear of heights has kept her out of the family acrobatic troupe, but her extreme nosiness fits right in with her Uncle Christos’ private investigation business, where she was apprenticing when he disappeared on an Odyssean journey to find himself. Muddling through on her own, she’s reduced to hunting (not stalking, as that would just be weird), brass-bra’d Hollywood agent Circe Holland in order to deliver her a message…only to witness her murder by something that looks like the creature from the black lagoon.

Suddenly, all of her family’s tall tales seem a bit more believable, especially when Apollo—the Apollo out of myth and legend, though now hiding out among humans as a star of stage and screen—appears in her office, looking to hire her. She knows the stories and that tangling with gods never works out well for their human lovers, but she’s drawn to Apollo in a way she can’t resist, even given her feelings for one very hot and hardened cop.

Her love life has to take a backseat to the danger at her door, though it’s a toss-up which will kill her quickest.

Desire slid a sharp finger down her spine, causing her to thrust out her chest. The ache between her legs intensified as the distance between her and Draven closed.

Ding.

The door slid open, and she found Draven standing there waiting for her. Dark hunger burned in his eyes. All she could do was whimper before he grabbed her arm and pulled her into an embrace. Stumbling off of the elevator, she went willingly and gave herself to his scent and heat once again. Something inside of her clicked, and she relaxed against him.

Draven buried his head in the crook of her neck and sighed. Moist breath fanned her skin. Goosebumps rose as her stomach dropped.

“I’ve missed you. Been thinking about you, waiting for this moment.” He sounded so tired, which worried her.

“What’s wrong?” Moving her body back a bit, she slipped the files under her arm and slid a free hand into his hair. Combing her fingers through his silken tresses, she smiled when he sighed at the touch. His hand pressed in the small of her back, urging her to move closer. No protests; she went with the guidance. A small moan began in her chest and moved up her throat when she felt the press of his erection against her stomach. He rocked against her and groaned aloud.

“It’s been a long day. Need to get you into the office before I drop to my knees and eat you out here in the hallway.” His hand slid over one cheek of her ass. As he squeezed, he drew another groan from her. Heat flooded her sex and spread outward.

“Draven,” she started.

He scraped his fangs down her neck. That one small touch burned her skin and sent tendrils of fire tingled at the base of her back.

Eostre’s Baskets: Stacking the Deck

Blurb:

Bounty hunter and dragon shifter Dean returns home hoping to spend some time with his office manager and new mate Carrie. What he gets is confusion. Hes confronted with communication and connection issues. He feels attacked and backed into a corner with no direction to go in. To find a place to start he turns to Sundaes Adult Easter Baskets hoping that this will give him a handhold to grip as he tries to break through the walls both of them have erected due to their pasts.

Carrie has missed her mate but cant take the lack of communication she feels when hes on the job. For the longest time shes been alone. Now that she has a mate she wants to feel that connection to another person. She doesnt know why Dean holds himself back from her, both on the road and while at home. She needs him to be present and here, to open up to her. But if she pushes too hard she could lose him forever. Can Sundae’s keep it’s sexily ever after guarantee?

She shivered under him. He ran his hands up and down her back, absorbing the feel of her damp, silken skin. It felt like forever since he’d touched her, kissed her. She took his lips in a slow, hungry kiss that blew his mind. His thoughts scattered as she sucked on his tongue once more with shallow pulls before taking it farther into her mouth. His dick jerked as more droplets of precum slipped over the cap and down the side. She reached between them and took hold of his cock. He moaned and thrust his hips upward. Electric sparks burst in his blood as the fire swirled within, hotter, molten.

“Dean and Carrie make a great couple. The love that they share is evident in all that they do. It was nice to watch the two try to find a way to connect with each other. Both have gone through so much in their lives. Watching them fight for their happy ever after makes for a great read. As hot as this story is it also gives readers a beautiful love story. We get to see two wonderful characters look and fight for a love that only comes once in a lifetime. This fast paced story grabbed my attention right from the start and did not let go until the very end.”- Gabrielle

(Watch Me) Break You

Run This Town, BK #1

They’re in a war for control of the streets, but love will be the ultimate prize.

Here comes trouble…

Men. Women. Drugs. Dima Zhirkov’s favorite things. Add in the element of danger and he should be right as rain. But not today. It’s not working, hasn’t for a long time. He’s grasping at the flimsiest of straws to prove he’s indeed strong enough to run his streets. Until he sets eyes on him. In the midst of a room full of strangers, Dima is drawn to a man as cold and dangerous as he’s beautiful. Captivated, Dima embarks on a ruthless campaign to get his new toy into bed.

Here comes the danger…

Xavier “X” Storm is content to pull the strings while someone else handles the day to day dealings of his gang, The Rude Boys. He’s after what Dima holds closest—the Coney Island streets. He contracts out the job of killing the Russian, except Dima isn’t that easy to kill. When he suddenly shows up in X’s path, tempting him to indulge in the dirtiest play, he finds Dima isn’t all that easy to shake, either. His cocky attitude and rough submission tempts X to go where he’d vowed to never return, and they plunge head first into an affair fueled by possessive obsession.

Run for cover

Sex and pain Dima can handle, and X delivers the most depraved kind. Their connection is explosive, their games addictive, but Dima can end it whenever he wishes. He doesn’t see that X is breaking him down, giving Dima everything he wants and even more than he ever thought to need. By the time he realizes who X is and what he wants, Dima is raw and bullet-riddled. It’s run or fight. And Dima doesn’t back down. Neither does X.

Warning: Includes strong BDSM elements, and reference to rape and sexual abuse.

EXCERPT

“This little game that we play…” He paused when his throat burned.

“Is it, Rush? Is it a game?”

Down on his knees, Dima looked up and up into fathomless eyes. They trapped him enough that he forgot to bristle at that stupid nickname. Rush. Because he was Russian.

The pad of one finger touched his throat, slid down. He swallowed, but he had no saliva. He blinked to clear the haze over his eyes.

“Is it a game, this, what we do? This is how you play?”

Of course it was. He liked his toys. His drinks. His drugs. His women. His men too. Like the one who had him on his knees. This was Dima. The crazy little games that he played. He could leave at any time. Tied up as he was he couldn’t move except to flick a glance at the door flung wide open for anyone to see him beg to be used. But he could leave. End it. Because that’s what he did. He played. And then he walked away.

“Your game.” The hand in his hair moved then reappeared in front of his face holding another length of rope. “This is your game. You stalking me, begging me…”

Dima didn’t beg, not unless he was on his knees. He didn’t remember begging.

“You always in my fucking shadow making it impossible for me to do anything, cock blocking. That’s your game? The woman you just saw me with. The one you would’ve hurt if I hadn’t rescued her. All part of your game?”

She’d needed to be hurt. No one used his toys without permission. He’d stood in the shadows and watched her touch his toy, put her red lips to his ear and her long-nailed hands on his thigh, and Dima had salivated at the thought of gutting her. For touching what was his. He’d gotten hard as he’d thought of it.

Hot breath brushed his neck. Made him shudder. Usually he had better control when he played his games. Usually his toys didn’t affect him. Usually he didn’t pursue his toys either. This one was tough to catch. Impossible to pin down. It exhilarated him, that cat and mouse game.

“If I’d fucked her while you watched, would that have been part of the game?”

Something thudded in his chest. He swallowed again. Fire burned his throat. His head pounded as a flash of heat made him sweat. Anger. Not just any anger. Jealous anger. His lips parted and his toy swooped in, took him. His mouth. His tongue. His mind. And Dima started to pant because that wasn’t part of the game. Not his game. To be taken over. To be made to feel more than the superficial pain on his skin. He tried to stop the kiss, turn his head, but his toy caught him by the throat, fingers tight, pressing in, stealing breath he didn’t seem to want to give back.

A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Stone Mountain, GA., with a tolerant spousal equivalent. Together they raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing the plot points of Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother.

Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Av remains a believer of love in all its forms.

Kit has never forgotten the cruel way Rysen rejected her as a possible consort over a hundred years ago. She’s striven to get stronger, pushing her attraction to him down and using her anger as fuel.

Rysen has always regretted the way he rejected Kit. As much as he loved her, Rysen despised the way her clan tried to use her as a political gambit for power and protection. But he never stopped wanting Kit, trying to make her his in every way possible.

When enemies attack, they use old magic to seal themselves off and stay safe. But now they find themselves trapped with a century of hunger rising between them….

Rysen ignored the throbbing of his cock. As much as he wanted to fuck her right now, he couldn’t. She was unconscious and she was hurt. When he got her in his bed, she was going to be awake and strong and enjoying every last bit of it.

His gaze roamed over her bruised and battered face. “Gods, she is beautiful,” he murmured. He leaned down, scooped her up in his arms, and held her close. He took in her mocha skin, some patches darker with bruises. One eye was swollen shut. He regretted every mark, every bruise, every injury he had inflicted on her, but words did not work with her. Ever since he had passed her over a hundred years ago, when her clan had offered her to him as one of his consorts, she’d loathed him, and she’d taken up her clan’s fight to avenge his insult against them.

He had wanted her — by the gods, he had wanted her — but he had always felt she was just too fine to bring into his world. She deserved better than to be a political sacrifice. His body shuddered at the very thought of her in his bed, arms over her head, tied to the bedposts, her legs spread far apart, her hairless mound glistening with her dew. Her pussy already dripping, ready for him to fuck her hard, fast, and deep. He wanted the image in his head so badly, and yet he knew if he even tried to make a move, she’d either kill him or die trying. He was tired of fighting her. He wanted to tie her to his bed, blindfold her, and show her the delights that could be had if she would only let him dominate her.

Carrying her up the stairs, he held her body close, cradling her like a precious relic. He made his way to the second floor. Out of all the women he’d ever encountered, she inflamed him like no one else. Her oval face, with her large, liquid brown eyes flecked with red, haunted him. Her full lips beckoned him. The graceful column of her neck invited him to sink his teeth into her jugular and drink deep of her life essence. He wanted to cup her small, high breasts and watch his hands travel along the curves of her sides, over her hips, down her thighs, caress her calves, and massage her feet. He wanted to rub his scent into her skin so that all would know she belonged to him and only him. There would be no others if she agreed to be his consort.

He could smell the odious poison in her blood. The wound on her palm was still open, blood slowly dripping from the cut. He would have to drain most of her blood and give her some of his. She would hate him for that.

Giving her his blood would allow him to track her wherever she went, to invade her thoughts and dreams, sense her moods, even from thousands of miles away. He would know if she were with someone else, he could even see through her eyes and take control of her body. He was the third chieftain of the Vampyre nation. He was the third most powerful vampyre in existence, his clan the third largest, and he was also third in line to ascend to the throne of the Vampyre monarchy. All he needed was a queen.

He made his way through a hallway and couldn’t understand why she’d bought this horrid place. It had no class, no sophistication. It was out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods, the nearest town five miles away.

“How in the hell is help supposed to get here in case of an emergency?” he asked the sleeping figure in his arms. “And it’s not even pretty land. For the love of the gods, the garden is overrun with weeds. The lake is a cesspool, and I have yet to see one animal around here. My darling, you should have taken my offer to make you a queen. Then you could’ve had all the beautiful land you could want.”

Even in sleep she defied him. As if on its own, her hand rose and tried to hit him.

He chuckled. “I shall call it a pet project for you, then. A hobby. But this should not be your life. You’re too talented to waste your gifts on this place.”

She tried to hit him again. He wanted to take hold of her hand and kiss the back of it, brush his lips against the pulse point and feel her heart beat. He looked up and saw he was only a few feet away from the bedroom he sought, the largest one at the end of the hallway. He could feel the rival vampyres outside, walking around, plotting their next move. Once he saw to her comfort and recovery, he would go outside and destroy them.

“How dare they interrupt our fight,” he growled. “As soon as I know who they are, they will be dealt with.”

If he had won, she would have been forced to concede to him, and therefore her fate would be in his hands. As much as he hadn’t wanted it to come down to that, he would have preferred it to the suicide mission she seemed to be on when she decided it was in her best interest to fight him.

“So stubborn is my darling,” he murmured softly. He loved her for that. He loved everything about her.

He kicked open the door and looked around. He was relieved to see that the room was in good condition. The furniture was of good quality, no dust or broken items. A large bed, piled high with pillows and bed coverings, stood against a far wall, the headboard a wrought-iron monstrosity whose top nearly hit the ceiling.

“This will do for now. You, my darling, deserve so much more.” His cock throbbed at the thought of laying her down in the silks, satins, furs, and velvets of his own massive bed. He shook his head. He wouldn’t feed his sexual desire now, not yet anyway. He refused to leave her while some unknown threat waited outside, prowling around looking for a weakness in Blyder’s protection spells.

“They won’t find them,” Rysen murmured as he arranged her on the bed and pulled off her boots. He paused, wondering if he should undress her to see how extensive the damage was. Making up his mind, he gently took off her tank top. Next, he removed her jeans and then her underwear.

Once she was naked, he catalogued all that he saw. Though his body reacted to the sight of her, his mind worked overtime to keep his lust at bay. He could see the bruises and wounds slowly starting to heal or disappear, but not fast enough. He took hold of her wrist and held it, palm up. Her self-inflicted wound had not disappeared.

She was too weak. Her immune system wouldn’t be able to defend itself until she had fully recovered. The poison was working much too well.

Swearing, he placed her arm gently on the bed and shrugged out of his black leather duster. Kneeling, he took hold of her arm and brought it to his mouth. His tongue lapped at the spot he would bite into, preparing it to stave off infection.

His canines extended. His body began to heat, and his cock grew harder. He kissed her pulse point before biting down, and his back arched as her blood hit his tongue. The sweet, salty, metallic flavor caused his taste buds to explode with pleasure. His eyes drifted closed while her life filled his mouth like sweet, hot lava. The faint bitterness of the poison did not dampen his pleasure; it was nothing to one of his strength. He drank of her, careful not to drink too much.

A soft moan drew his attention. He saw her back arch, her breasts thrust into the air. The scent of her desire filled his nostrils, and he moaned in response. Blood slipped from his mouth, coating his chin, dripping down to stain his shirt.

“Easy, darling. Be at peace. I’m going to take the poison from you,” he whispered with his mind.

“I’m dying,” she responded.

“No. I won’t allow it. You will not meet the Great Maker now or ever, if I have my way. Relax, my darling. Let me take care of you.”

“No…”

“Do it,” he growled out.

He felt her resist before he reached out with his power. Like a whip cutting through the air, his power flicked out into the space between them; like rope, he wrapped his will around her, pressing her down to the mattress. Her body flinched before relaxing back onto the bed. Once he was sure he had taken enough of her blood, he reluctantly released her wrist and lapped at the wound. Once the puncture marks were closed, he bit down into his own wrist.

He gazed upon her naked body, which looked cold and waxy, almost deathlike. He shuddered. He’d become a vampyre so he wouldn’t have to lose anyone else he loved. Seeing her like this reinforced how much he loved her. His wound welled, blood dripping down onto the worn bedspread. He reached out and pried her lips apart.

“Don’t fight me, darling. Drink of me.”

He placed his wrist at her mouth and watched her react. Reaching up, she took hold of his arm, holding it in a vise grip, her lips pressed to his flesh. Her tongue darted out and lapped at his wounds, causing pinpricks of fire to dance up his arm, inflaming his arousal. Her mouth latched onto his wrist, and each pull of her lips felt like a caress on his cock.

Rysen’s shaft throbbed in time with each tug. He reached down and, with one hand, ripped open the button of his jeans, pulled down the tab, and slipped his hand into his pants. Taking hold of his dick, he began to stroke his hardened rod, eyes now closed, head tilted back. He rose on his knees and, with a bit of awkwardness, tugged his pants down until his cock was fully freed. He wrapped his fist around his shaft and started to pump, up and down, in a grip that would cause tears to form in most men’s eyes. The pain and pleasure cascaded through his body. Warm waves ebbed and flowed through his veins as his hips moved back and forth. He fucked his hand as if he were inside her.

“Rysen,” she moaned, her voice echoing softly in his mind. He grunted in response.

“My love,” he answered. He did not care that he had just admitted his feelings for her or what she would think of them. He paused briefly, remembering the moment that had brought them to this place. The point where he had become her enemy a hundred years ago.

OUT NOW from Etopia Press!

Flushed and Fevered 1: Bewitching the Vampire

Blurb:

A stubborn witch vs a vampire king…who will win on Halloween?

Bridget is a witch who has been given a sweet deal—nab a rogue vampire and score a big payday, but she must deliver him within twenty-four hours. She’ll need help from Joe, the local vampire liege, to find the rogue vampire fast. Joe agrees to give her the information…if she agrees to play a few hands of poker with him. For each hand, she must reveal a bit about herself. And for each hand she wins, he’ll answer any question she asks. But Bridget isn’t sure she can keep things objective—not when Joe gives her that seductive grin.

Joe has always had an interest in the little witch. She defies his expectations and surprises at every turn. But despite his natural inclination to help her, he decides to make her work for the information she needs in the most delicious ways. With a little bit of seduction and a little bit of bondage, he tests her resolve to play the game…and tests his own self-control to contain the blood beast inside him. The stakes are sky-high, for both of them. But on Halloween, the most powerful night of the year, which one will be the winner?

Joe led her into the room, pulled out her chair, and touched the small of her back as he pushed her seat forward. There had been no need for the touch, but she felt the electric shock through the layers of her leather jacket and her thin sweater. The current trailed lazily up and down her spine to buzz around her pussy and fill her body with heat and awareness. The tips of her ears burned and her face flushed. She licked her bottom lip and tried to focus on the danger that sat across from her.

Joe took his seat with easy grace, his features bathed in golden light from the overhead chandelier and the lit candelabras. Bridget took in the neatly groomed five o’clock shadow, his navy blue eyes outlined with dark lashes, the barbell piercing that cut through his thick right brow. Despite his undead status he had a light tan that only enhanced her fascination with him. Where the hell did vampires go to tan that wouldn’t cause them to burst into flames? She shoved away her question and focused on the silver studs in his ears. A smirk graced his mouth. She wondered what it was that he knew that made him smile that way?

She’d heard the rumors, knew the older vampires could read things in a single touch, even through layers of clothing. What he got from her she wasn’t sure and didn’t want to know, but that damn smirk seemed to mock her. Her body twitched with unused energy as the thrill of contact with him continued to circulate. Her blood buzzed with awareness and her skin tingled.

She licked her bottom lip again and fought to focus on something else, anything else. Her stare trailed from the red oak flooring to the framed posters of comic book covers, each one singed by author and artist. A pang of envy filled her as she spotted a Batman: Year One cover signed by Frank Miller. For a moment, she wondered what kind of security system he had and if she could sneak it out without him knowing.

His steady, unblinking gaze settled on her like a weight, making her hyperaware of just how tight her nipples were and just how long it had been since she’d gotten laid. This was why she went out of her way to avoid the living hell out of Joe. She knew nothing about him, but he managed to pull and tug at things deep in her body that she didn’t want to think about.

She focused on the bat-shaped bulbs of his chandelier and wondered what could compel him to buy something so ugly. It was at odds with the simplicity of the room.

Joe cleared his throat and Bridget turned her attention back to him. He still had that smirk on his lips. Her palm prickled with the urge to smack him and make him stop. At least her magic hadn’t been activated. “What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

She gritted her teeth. “What?”

He picked up the cards and held them up. “Rules are simple. You win a round, I answer whatever question you ask; I win, you answer me. Deal?”

“That’s why I’m here.” She managed to get out, suppressing a growl.

He raised an eyebrow. “To play poker and enjoy the pleasure of my company?”

“For answers, asshole.”

He opened his mouth wide enough that she saw his tongue stud. She squirmed on her chair. She’d heard all the rumors about what men with that kind of tongue piercing could do. This was no time to think about that.

Joe chuckled, a dark sound that seemed to have nothing to do with poker and everything to do with sex. Did all vampires learn this laugh or was it just the old ones?

He dealt out the cards and settled back in his chair. Bridget picked up her cards and looked down, unsure whether or not she had a good hand. She had never played poker in her life. She figured two aces were good but what about two eights?

New Review: Stacking the Deck

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. I’ll make that hurt go away. Just have to get you calm first. He knew the perfect way to distract her from her personal discomfort. They needed to reconnect on more than just a physical level before dealing with the emotional quagmire that seemed to be brewing within her.
He opened up his e-mail and began to click through, clearing spam before he clicked on his inbox. He glanced over job offers and new hunting tips from friends. He clicked on a subject line from his friend and fellow bounty hunter, Jesse, whom he’d seen on his hunt for the rogue werewolf.“I remember you saying you wanted something special for Carrie for Easter. Got this site from a friend of a friend who used it. Highly recommended. Sundae’s Adult Easter Baskets. Have fun if you know what I mean. Lucky bastard.Look me up the next time you’re in Detroit. Will hook you up with some new flamethrowers that I’m working on.”

The link was embedded in the name of the business. He clicked on it and was brought to a simple site with a few questions. He took each one into account and answered to the best of his knowledge. He only hoped that whatever they got would help them. This was a start. Dean wanted to show Carrie in some way he was on her side. He might not be able to go into all the shit that he kept inside, but pleasing her in bed…that he understood and knew.

Review: “Short, direct, jumps right into the story. This is all about Dean and Carrie and their fairly new relationship. The author made you feel for them and the emotional issues they were going through.”- Missy B

I’m pleased to announce that the second book in my Halloween Trilogy, Making Demons Purr, has been contracted by Etopia Press and is scheduled for October.

This is the second book in my Halloween Trilogy. (Dead Man’s Hands is the first book in the series.)

This is an unedited Sneak Peek.

“You’re a far way from safety, Seraphena.” Carver St. James’ deep voice rumbled from the darkened doorway. Goose bumps rippled over her skin as her temperature spiked. Her heart beat began to race as her feline counterpart became more alert. Tension sang along her legs and arms as she fisted her hands. The magic that flowed unhindered during this time of year skittered along her bare flesh cause her tremble. Damn witches, letting their control go. Something else moved down her limbs, like raw silk kissed with heat.